Divisive Readdition
by Ragingceliac
Summary: It's been two years since Ezra disappeared. And now, with two years of brutal baneite training under his belt, Ezra is given a dangerous mission by his master: infiltrate and gain the support of the rebellion. He goes in with simple, if not insidious intentions, but it soon gets more complicated as Sabine reconnects with her family, and a figure from his past reappears...
1. Chapter 1

**Ezra Bridger** scowled. Another mission to Citric V. Violently stormy during the day and bone-chillingly cold at night, the planet was like many forgotten outer rim worlds; it had been strip mined of many of its once abundant durasteel ore reserves by the Confederacy of Independent Systems during the Clone Wars, and again by The Empire until it was a husk of torn landscape and dead vegetation. The world's older residents spent their time recounting the years when Citric was a self-contained, independent and resource rich place. Where a landed Gentry had settled itself and a subjugated poor had been abused. The Trade Federation had made that Gentry even stronger, as many of their ranks were the owners of the various companies that competed in price wars only to get short changed for their goods. After the Clone Wars had chewed the landscape up, The Empire had done doubly so in half the time. Now, a decade since then, Citric V was home to the remnant factions of the Black Sun, Pike, and others. They were why Ezra was stuck here in the first place.

Citric's business with the Trade Federation had caused the port city of Go'ruk - "Give and get" in the language of Citric's natives. There a small but highly profitable export business had settled itself then died after the world's resources had been all but emptied. The Black Sun and Pike remnants had come in the decade since Citric had been all but forgotten by the galaxy; The Empire was utterly ruthless in its dismantling of the galaxy's criminal cartels, causing most to either die or flee deeper into the outer rim, rumors even suggesting that some had gone to the Unknown Regions. The Black Sun and Pike had stayed, and as such Maul, once he felt confident enough to allow Ezra to leave Dathomir with him, had forced the seventeen year-old to attend numerous negotiations to get on their good side in bars, restaurants, and hotels.

The zabrak's apprentice had grown weary of these events incredibly quickly, and Ezra had to keep reminding himself that allying with the organizations would help Maul - and by proxy Ezra - to seize power if the rebellion succeeded.

Ezra quashed any memories of the Alliance before they could rise. He felt approval from Maul's end of their bond.

"As I was saying, Maul. We simply can't trust you. You left us with nothing after you took over Mandalore," The Black Sun vigo spat the planet's name as if it were a curse, "You left us with nothing!" he slammed his fist down on the table that separated him from Maul. His eyes were narrowed; his green, flabby face was contorted in expression that would have been intimidating to a weaker being. Maul wasn't one of said beings.

He was leaned casually back in his seat, arms crossed. With the shirt he wore, his lean and tattooed forearms were on clear display to the Black Sun vigo. Ezra was leaned against the wall, to Maul's right - the vigo's left - with the hood of his jet black cloak raised. The garment had been gifted to Ezra at the beginning of the two's outings into the wider galaxy, and while it was simple, Ezra knew that the anonymity it gave his face unnerved the vigo's guards. The pair were clad in black jumpsuits, with identically coloured knee and shoulder pads. They both had a blaster rifle each, with the safeties off. They'd get cut down in moments if the Vigo and Maul came to blows, Ezra promised himself that.

"We simply cannot trust you," The vigo repeated, drawing out the words to the point of condescension. Maul's eyes narrowed.

"How can I show that you can?" He asked. An innocent enough question, Ezra thought. The vigo's eyes lit up for a few seconds before settling back into Muun levels of calculativeness.

"There's a shipment of our spice that went missing a standard week ago," The vigo said. "we believe we have located the band that stole it." Maul feigned misunderstanding; feeding the vigo's sense of control, when he was in fact with almost no bargaining chips suited Maul just fine if it gained him a potential alliance.

"You want it back," Maul stated slowly after a moment. The vigo nodded vigorously.

"Yes." Maul motioned to Ezra casually with his hand.

"My apprentice is available for that," The zabrak said, ignoring the alarm and anger that spiked at Ezra's end of their bond. The vigo raised a thin brow.

"You have another apprentice?" Maul nodded, a thin smile tugging at his features.

"I promise he's more stable then my last."

 _Last?_

Ezra's eyes narrowed, posture stiffening. When he'd called Kanan master, it was mainly ceremonial. With Maul, it was literal; he could get rid of Ezra any time and way he wanted. The teen knew this full well, and the thought that Maul had had another apprentice before him raised something Ezra had rarely felt: jealousy.

And suspicion. Why hadn't Maul told him about his previous apprentice? Why did he say Ezra was 'More stable than the last.'? Head swimming with questions, Ezra was caught off guard when he heard:

"Then, Maul, let this be the beginning of a renewed friendship." Maul rose from his seat, turning to face his apprentice as the Black Sun vigo did ditto to his guards. His brow furrowed as when they made eye contact with his apprentice.

He spoke as soon as the vigo and his entourage had left.

"You seem troubled," He stated. Ezra wanted to deadpan that, but resisted the urge.

"Yes," He said with a sigh. "I-I just don't understand," Maul tilted his head minutely to the side.

"What, apprentice?" He asked lightly. It was his mentor's tone. Ezra recognized it.

"Why are you having me waste my talents helping some wannabe crime lord get his drugs back so he can get people high?" The teen had a bluntness in his tone that didn't belong there. None of what Maul had given Ezra - paler skin, golden rings around his irises - belonged there either, the zabrak supposed. Yet normally when Ezra was that blunt, he was upset. But by what? Maul normally read his apprentice's mind and intentions with ease, but now they were shielded; Ezra had, during his talk with the vigo, set up impressive psychic barriers. Maul knew of Ezra's entirely understandable obsession with the cerebral side of the force, specifically in defence, but had he been _that_ obsessed?

Maul pushed those thoughts away for the time being, instead attempting to probe his apprentice's emotions. The force was silent. Ezra didn't give anything. Maul quashed the frown that threatened his neutral mentor's expression and spoke.

"Ezra," He began, resting his hand on the teen's shoulder. Ezra's posture stiffened even more at that.

"These Black Sun are cowards. The fact that they ask for assistance shows their weakness," Behind Ezra's hood, a midnight-blue brow arched.  
"Then why are we helping them? Isn't that just reinforcing to them that cowardice works?" He cut in astutely. Maul sent a wave of approval Ezra's way.

"Yes," Maul felt a small surge of pride in Ezra, "But we need them." The teen scowled behind his hood.

"But you said they're weak," Ezra said, "They deserve to die!" Maul, again, sent a wave of approval Ezra's way. His apprentice had picked up cunning from his days as a street rat on Lothal, and it had been further enhanced by Maul's training of him. It could be frustrating at times, but it had served him well in the past.

"Yes, they are," Maul said, squeezing Ezra's shoulder. "But we sadly need their resources. When we have no further need of them, the Black Sun will cease to be." Ezra nodded, not fully satisfied but realising he wasn't going to get anywhere with his master at the time. He bowed.

"Of course, master; your wisdom graces me once again." Maul studied what Ezra's cloak allowed him to; the teen's posture would make an imperial drill instructor proud. Maul knew something wasn't right. After a tense moment, he took his hand off Ezra's shoulder and left the room, motioning for his apprentice as he did so.

* * *

The _Savage_ fired another burst of laser from its twin cannons. The bolts slammed into another ship, one the Black Sun had identified as the _Fleece_. Ezra took another moment's deliberation before firing again, this time hitting the thrusters. The _Fleece_ bucked, hit off kilter by the lasers.

Ezra felt some savage pleasure when putting the _Fleece_ out of commision, yet it soon burnt out as the moment faded. He rose from the gunner's seat he'd occupied for the fifteen minutes, straightening his back as he did. Scowling at the mission ahead, the teen picked up the cloak he'd left draped over the chair with the force. The garment flew into his palm, and he slid it over his shoulders instinctively. Climbing up the ladder that lead to the _Savage_ proper, Ezra mused that Maul might suspect something of him. He knew he'd been less than cooperative for the first few weeks of his training, attempting to escape multiple times over. Each "Plan" was overly complicated and a massive long shot, and was the reason for the angry, cauterized scar that cut from his eye to his jaw.

Ezra, of course, had no intention of leaving his master - for the moment, anyway. There was so much for him to learn, too much for him to leave this early. Maul had informed him of the Rule Of Two, the doctrine created by Darth Bane a millennia earlier. Ezra had his own reservations about it, yet learning at the feet of a Baneite sith was something the teen valued more than his training under Kanan; the former jedi had held him back, not attempting to completely remove Ezra's emotions - he wasn't that idiotic - but to simply tame them. He taught Ezra that those using the light were meant to be trusted, admired; to hold up as what he could become given time. Malachor V had changed that.

Ezra had lost Ahsoka there, and Kanan had lost his sight there. Why that stubby green thing named Yoda had sent them there was far beyond Ezra's comprehension.

"Apprentice, the time to board has come." The teen glanced up to see Maul standing in the cockpit's entrance, hands folded behind his back. Ezra gave a curt bow of respect to the zabrak and raised the hood of his cloak, concealing his entire face in shadow once more.

He gestured with his right hand underneath his cloak to open the door that lead to the _Fleece_. It slid past, revealing the connecting corridor the _Savage_ possessed. It was light by bright, luminescent lights that made Ezra look more unnerving. He gestured with his right hand once more when he reached the other end of the hall, making the door in his way slide past him.

He took his right hand and wrapped it around the hilt of his lightsaber. He would've used a two-handed grip two years ago, but that time had passed. With his index finger poised hovering above the ignition switch, Ezra took a breath ignited the weapon.

A lance of crimson sprouted from the weapon's hilt, bathing dark hallway Ezra had entered with unsettling light. The red crystal had been acquired by the teen early on in his career as Maul's apprentice, when he'd been tracked by a freshly anointed inquisitor; that had been on his third ever outing since his arrival on Dathomir, and his killing of the inquisitor had prompted Maul to introduce him to the seventh form of lightsaber combat… and replace his previously golden crystal with the inquisitor's artificial red one.

Now it felt just as reassuring as his golden lightsaber had felt, but he was far more deadly now than he was then. Ezra sensed two pirates in the hall - one human, one weequay - but both male. He sensed and fed off their fear, letting his power build. The spark that was his inner darkness, which he always kept simmering, grew into an inferno. The air around Ezra seemed to crackle unnaturally, as his inner darkness yearned to be released. The pirates exchanged a glance, and Ezra sensed the pair's trepidation as they took aim at him. He smirked.

Extending his left hand, Ezra yanked the blaster pistols the pirates had out of their hands, letting them fly into the wall behind him. The pair of blasters fell to th floor with a clatter, and the pirates' collective fear skyrocketed. One of the pirates, the weequay, had realized he was overmatched, and began to turn to run, but Ezra, after a moment of concentration, stopped him mid stride, pinching his index finger and thumb together. He imagined strangling the weequay's life out of them. The weequay, in response to that thought, began to emit horrid gurgling sounds, and to claw at his throat. His eyes bulged, wide with unrestricted terror. His human partner was stunned, frozen until the weequay fell to the ground, his last scream coming out as a pitiful rasp.

The human began to turn, too, but Ezra froze him in place with the force, and approached him slowly, savoring his fear one last time before driving his lightsaber through his heart. He was halfway down the hall when they rasped out their final words.

"You are a disgrace to your order, jedi."

Ezra spun, eyes narrowing. He was preparing to cut the human's throat open when they died. After a moment Ezra shook his head, turning back and heading down the hall. His lightsaber blade ran parallel to the hall's floor, scattering red light around his ankles.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

 **...**

 **This is how I'm starting this story, huh?**

 **Oh well, if you don't like stories like this and want a happier one, feel free to find another story. But I'd like for you to stay - if you dare. *begins laughing maniacally* Because this story should be fun; I haven't really seen to many stories concerning what a turned Ezra might be like.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Form VII** juyo was, as Maul had taught it to Ezra, utterly vicious and unpredictable; it exchanged defense for an overwhelming offense and, when done correctly, its sequences could breach the defenses of even the finest soresu masters. Ezra hadn't mastered the form. He wasn't even close.

Poison-tipped stick held in both hands, Ezra took ready position once more across from his master. His body had a thin layer of sweat over it; it slid down his forehead, coming down from his midnight blue locks to slap against the unforgiving durasteel of the _Savage_. Had he been on Dathomir, he'd've had an amp from the planet; but Maul had made a point to only instruct Ezra in the seventh form in space, to wean him off the dark energies of the planet that he had been trained on for the majority of the previous two years. At first Ezra had stumbled, tripped, and made mistake after embarrassing mistake with the form. Now he'd adapted to fight without an sort of dark side amp.

The moment of stillness between mentor and student was broken when the latter charged to former, opening with an effective, if not crude, succession of slashes and thrusts, each of which Maul blocked with ease. Ezra disengaged, spinning away from the zabrak. Maul was about to attack and test Ezra's use of Form III, when his apprentice flew at him again.

Swift slashes that gave no quarter were met by Maul's stick over and over again. Near the end of the basic sequence, Ezra chained in a kick meant to dislodge several of the zabrak's teeth. Surprised, Maul caught the kick with one hand and yanked. His apprentice came unceremoniously to the ground, shock and pain in their eyes. Ezra dropped his stick, and it clattered to the ground whilst he looked up to see Maul level his own training stick at his throat.

"And there goes your head."

Ezra was unsure of how many times he'd heard that specific phrase over two years of Maul's tutelage. The zabrak held his stick at Ezra's throat for another moment before moving it to rest against his robotic right leg. He didn't offer Ezra a hand to help him to his feet - not that Ezra expected that any more - and the teen rose to their feet with a minor grunt. When he did, Maul spoke:

"Your attacks were crude," He chided, "You have, however seemed to have mastered them enough." Ezra nodded, calling his stick to his hand with the force. He felt slight pide in Maul's compliment, but focused more on the zabrak's criticism.

"The kick you incorporated at the end, however, was unexpected." Ezra had surprised his master? No matter how small that feeling may have been, that was something worthy of note. Ezra's pride soared before Maul, in his typical fashion, made his blood turn cold.

"Again."

Ezra took position across from Maul, feet spread instinctually in the ready position taught to him by Kanan. Sweat-laced fingers wrapped around his training stick. A breath entered his mouth and exited his nose. Maul waited, patience waning, as his apprentice prepared himself for another bout. Then he flew at him again. He struck once more with basic strikes, moving on instinct. Maul let exaggerated boredom cross his features, and was met with increasing speed with Ezra.

The teen made a diagonal strike downward and to Maul's right, which the zabrak blocked. Instead of taking a step back, he countered with a Form V counter to Ezra's right arm. The teen's eyes widened for a moment before the stick struck the limb. The poison the stick was tipped with, native to Dathomir itself, was painful. He had been hit with it before, and it still hurt like all kriff. Ezra dropped his stick, feeling his am go limp and directing his eyes back to Maul.

"You were getting predictable," The zabrak said, a frown of disapproval across his face. "The exact thing Juyo is designed to avoid."

Ezra nodded, beginning to turn; every time he got hit, the session was over.

"Again."

Apparently Maul had other ideas.

Ezra spun, narrowly ducking under a swing that threatened his head. He didn't even have time open his mouth before Maul swong again. He jumped back from that one, only to cede more ground when Maul followed it with an overhead cleave. This was eerily similar to his fight with the magnaguards, Ezra realised after several more minutes of dodging Maul's attacks. He couldn't maintain his movement for much longer, with Maul's dogged attacks against him.

Yet he couldn't find an opening; he was sure there might have been some to exploit had his training stick been with him, but he never found the time to pick it up. Maul continued, cleaving the air over and over again, Ezra spinning, twirling, and ducking to avoid them. Eventually, after a particularly fast succession of attacks, Ezra found him close to his training stick once more. His eyes flicked to his master; Maul's eyes were a glowing gold, with his lithe frame poised to make a downward cleave towards Ezra's head. The teen's eyes flicked back to his training stick, then back to Maul. He was exhausted, his aching muscles slowing him more and more as the seconds ticked by. Diving for the training stick, Ezra wrapped his left fingers around it, raising it just in time to meet Maul's strike.

The sharp sound that followed wasn't registered by either. Ezra's left arm began to shake under the stress as Maul pushed harder, continuing the blade lock. After a few moments, in desperation, Ezra disengaged and, with time seeming to slow, sent a roundhouse to Maul's kneecaps. His foot struck home, causing Maul to chafe. Ezra spun out of the way, fully expecting another attack, only to find Maul rise a tad shakily to his feet, a small, self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Well done." He said, whilst Ezra blinked, exhaustion making consciousness a far more difficult objective to achieve then it had been only minutes earlier. Maul extrapolated what Ezra had done correctly and incorrectly whilst his apprentice listened numbly; his muscles ached, screaming at him to collapse onto the cot in his room aboard the _Savage_. Maul, after two minutes of critique, gave Ezra the combination of words he'd been seceretly praying for:

"That is enough for today, apprentice. You are dismissed." Ezra nodded, thankful, and with a tired mind made his way to his room. It was simple and scarcely decorated; a single cot, without blankets, in the right corner and a refresher unit in the left. Ezra had an extra set of clothes on the nightstand next to his bed, a simple pair of military black pants and gray shirt. His traveling cloak was under those, furled up. His lightsaber laid atop the pile clothing, too.

Ezra trudged toward his cot and laid down on it, falling into sleep's embrace a moment after he did so.

* * *

 _Ezra found himself, again - for whatever reason - on Malachor. Yet now he was in the sith temple. The heart of it._

 _It was silent - utterly. Ezra looked out and saw the preserved bodies of the jedi and sith who had fought on the planet millennia ago; they were fossilised, frozen in various states. Some were poised in cleaves or in mid-strike, others in mid-collapse, while a select few were caught in fisticuffs. Ezra felt an unnatural breeze move a few strands out of place and turned around; he saw the place where he got the sith holocron - the one he'd destroyed._

 _He felt the force nexus in the temple's center, yet he didn't see the holocron. The nexus still emanated a pulsing purple-pink light, but there wasn't anything there. Against his better judgement, Ezra approached it._

 _The light danced across his pale features, and as he got closer he began to see something; it was vague outline of a feminine body, one he guessed was human, with bright red hair. Confused, Ezra took a step closer. The wind got stronger, sending more of his hair out of line, but the teen ignored it._

 _The image was clearer; it was the same body, and red hair, but now he saw their face; it was that of a fifteen to fourteen year-old, with gray eyes and a caring smile. A smile. That caught Ezra off guard. But he continued forward nonetheless._

 _A few more steps had the wind began to howl in his ears, and fight against his movement. Yet the image became even clearer; now he saw they were slightly shorter than he had been a few years ago, with the same caring smile._

 _Yet the projection began to shift, and the smile was replaced with an upset frown as the person's eyes began to tear up. Ezra, still confounded, took a single step closer before a faint voice reached his ears._

" _Well, then. I guess this is good-bye. Take care, Ezra."_

* * *

Ezra shot up, sweat sliding down his forehead. His armpits were saturated with his body's natural cooler, too. He gauged his heartbeat to be in the one-fifties; his hair was matted and frayed. Swinging his legs over the side of his cot, Ezra glanced at the chrono affixed to his refresher: it was six am. Time to get to Maul.

Ezra crossed his room and splashed some water in his face, the cool liquid snapping him back into sharp awareness. The teen looked at his reflection; his hair was in disarray and darkened with sweat, and his eyes, which in the past two years had obtained a constant, thin yellow ring, were lacking it. Ezra frowned and turned away from the refresher, shaking his head and collecting his lightsaber from his pile of clothes.

The weapon flew into his open palm, with his fingers wrapping around the hilt tightly the moment it did so. He clipped it to his belt and opened his cabin's door. The door slid past, revealing an empty hall. Maul should've been there waiting for him. It was what he'd always done; find Ezra at six, work him impossibly hard until midday, then do what he did in the morning again. A few hours of rest later and the cycle repeated itself. Yet it seemed Maul had missed the beginning of it.

Was it a test? Was Maul waiting for Ezra to come to him now? What did it mean? Those were the questions that carried Ezra to the designated training area on the _Savage_. The door slid past him to reveal not Maul, but the empty training area. Ezra reached out with the force, legitimately worried. Had his master made a mistake? From everything Ezra had seen Maul do that should've been impossible; yet he hadn't met him outside his room or in the training area. Ezra glanced the chrono above the training area's door: it was six fifteen.

Another minute came and went as Ezra probed the force for his master's location and found nothing. With a mix of confusion, frustration, and worry Ezra began his daily warm up exercises.

He began with sit ups, followed by jumping jacks and finally push ups; the last of the three done first with two arms, then twice using the right and left arms alone. Ezra had just risen from his final set of push ups when the door to the training area slid open. He heard the pneumatic _hiss_ followed by the ever-troubling snap-hiss of a lightsaber being ignited. It was red, and it's wielder held it a two-handed grip, a hood attached to a pitch-black cloak hiding their face.

They flew at Ezra, blade raised high above their head. Ezra collected himself a moment after they jumped,igniting his lightsaber just in time to intercept the strike. There was a crackle as the two plasma weapons contacted each other, and Ezra disengaged from the potential blade lock. He made a horizontal crosscut for their waist, which they blocked and reciprocated. Ezra spun out of the way, blocking their following thrust and responding in kind. THis strike was parried, and then countered immediately.

Ezra flipped backward, giving ground. His opponent gave no quarter, making use of a strike that would've cut a deep, cauterized trench from Ezra's right shoulder to his belly had he not parried it. He grit his teeth, countering again only to get a mirrored response. His opponent was better than he was, Ezra had realised after several more passes between them. He had several bruises and a purpling wound around his left eye after five more minutes of the duel. He resisted the urge to grip his side, trying to keep a calm face despite his battered frame and ragged breathing; his muscles were aching, everything hurt, and he was losing the drive to fight.

But his opponent initiated another pass, and Ezra was forced to fight despite his injuries. His opponent smashed through his defenses easily, the teen giving desperate ground in a vain attempt to survive the onslaught. Ezra went into the air and landed on his side when his opponent kicked him hard in the chest.

Everything hurt so much that it was, ironically, becoming faint in Ezra's mind; he saw his attacker jump towards him once more, saber held in a position to utilize a strike that would leave Ezra's head in two halfs. As they got closer, his mind began to panic; it looked for some way out. It searched frantically through it's memories; Ezra losing his parents, being left behind by friends, losing Ahsoka…

Ezra's mind harkened back to the previous day when he had trained with Mau and it remembered the lesson it had derived from it; be unpredictable. The figure was two thirds of the way towards him when Ezra when he opened a bloodied palm, calling his lightsaber to his hand.

The second it his his palm, Ezra rolled to the side, smelling the ozone wafting from his opponent's lightsaber blade. With a mixture of desperation, fear of death, and anger at the universe for once more seemingly trying to kill him, he began to make use of Form VII, Juyo.

His strikes were fueled by the insatiable desire for life, and as such both shocked and pleased his opponent. After a few more passes with Ezra on the attack, he twirled away from one of their counters, moving with surprising grace from Form VII to III, Ezra met their follow up thrust and switched once more to Form VII. This time he managed to get within a hair's breath of singing his opponent's cloak, to which they backflipped away. Ezra began to start another attck sequence when they held up a hand.

"Yield!" Maul boomed, throwing back his hood. His face was once more formed into a self-satisfied smile, showing his yellowed teeth. Ezra froze, movement coming to a halt as he stared at his master. The zabrak deactivated their lightsaber, their ruby blade retracting soundlessly. Again, Ezra was too tired, with the added problem of being exhausted, to acutely respond to anything Maul said.

"This was your final test, apprentice." Ezra snapped out of his stupor at that. "It will take a few days to prepare fully for this mission, yet I believe you are ready for it." Ezra nodded numbly.

"What is it, master?" The teen asked tiredly, pushing down a yawn that threatened his composure. Maul gave him a meaningful look before speaking.

"It is dangerous," He said, "I am uncertain as to whether you will survive it." Ezra nodded again, burying the alarm that went off in his head at the zabrak's words.

"I am ready, master," He said, and even though it lacked the volume it should have, Maul heard the conviction in it.

"I need you to infiltrate and gain the support of the rebellion."

* * *

 **Unt ze plot thickens! I enjoyed writing this chapter, but I'm a bit uncertain as to how I write combat. Feel free to give me your thoughts! Any and all reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac**


	3. Chapter 3

**One Week Later...**

 **Ketsu Onyo** scowled. Rebel soldiers - if you could call them that - scrambled about; some built impromptu barricades, others distributed weapons, and a small minority were already behind something and ready to fight. Ketsu was in none of those groups.

She stood straight and with professionalism, a blaster held in each hand. Despite what many of the more… backwater thinkers often thought about females, she wasn't a slouch in combat and nor was she one to shy away from a fight. The troopers she worked with knew that full well, and as such they moved with the motivation to not anger their mandalorian commander.

Ketsu was aware of her reputation among the Alliance as being more militant; but the nobles' who started the cell had hired her, hadn't they? She'd whipped the rebel cell on Sereno into shape; it had been well-funded from the start, as many of the planet's nobles thoroughly hated the Empire for encroaching upon their influence. The cell then had had competent leaders, but their grunts were less so. The cell had already joined the Alliance by the time Ketsu had been hired, and they didn't do anything about it.

"Ma'am!" Came a voice from behind her. Ketsu turned to see a human male about two metres tall, with a knotted frame of muscle poorly concealed by their black garb. The mandalorian smiled a bit

"What is it, Rez?" Rescal was his real name, but Rez made for a more entertaining thing to say. It wasn't like he was going to fight _her_ of all people over it; he was a nobleman's son, and as such treated any and all women like minor deities.

"Ma'am, our radar has picked up several Imperial signatures," Ketsu began to arch a brow but, thankfully for Rescal, he knew enough to continue talking.

"Our technicians have estimated that they will arrive in fifteen minutes." Ketsu's scowl deepened. Rescal must have noticed something in her posture, because his face took on an expression of worry.

"Is something wrong, ma'am?" Ketsu shook her head.

"No. Now go prep the shuttles for evacuation. On the double!" Rescal nodded, stumbling for a moment as he made his way to said shuttles. Ketsu rolled her eyes. Rescal's kind only seemed to be able to wear expensive suits or vests without tripping over themselves. He wasn't that rare, especially the higher up the social chain you went. Much to Ketsu's chagrin, that kind made up the majority of the "Officers" she dealt with in the cell. Still, they knew how to follow orders.

"The Imps are gonna arrive in fifteen minutes! Double time it people!" The rebel troops within earshot spread Ketsu's orders to those who hadn't heard them and they began to, indeed, double their efforts. Ketsu felt a small amount of satisfaction as she watched them work, yet it was tainted by the threat of death by imperial lasers.

Ketsu was far from being afraid of death - you didn't get far as a bounty hunter if you were - but nearly everybody she'd fought against had either been cowards or without formal training. Dealing with stormtroopers, though… their commanders might have been stupid at times, but most infantry can get a lucky shot in at some point. And with what was probably an entire regiment of stormtroopers baring down on her Onyo hoped her luck was better than the stormtroopers'.

* * *

Captain Frendid Gandar observed the old, abandoned ship lot the rebels on Sereno were using as their base with contempt. What was it with people? Why couldn't they just accept who the powers at be were?

He shook his head in silent disapproval. He had been assigned to Sereno for a reason. Kill rebels. This was the place that gave the galaxy Count Dooku, so it was really surprising that the Empire hadn't found rebellion here sooner. Of course, that didn't save people like Frendid from getting their hands dirty.

The Imperial Captain was also on edge for another reason: the Inquisitor that was accompanying his forces. He understood the decision, of course; the Emperor needed to send a zero-tolerance message to Sereno's nobles. To show that the Empire was strong.

But the Inquisitors were so… strange. It didn't help that the one he was stuck with was their interrogation specialist, either. Frendid didn't even know what species they were; the angular, triangle-shaped mask they wore was made so it made them look like they had a very pointed snout. Of course, if anyone ever voice these thoughts, Frendid couldn't do anything to save them from a private "Conversation" from that inquisitor.

"Are your troops prepared, Captain?" Frendid's blood turned cold as he saw the inquisitor's form approaching him. He suppressed any sign of weakness in his voice when he spoke.

"Of course, Inquisitor. My troops are ready for battle - as I said they would be." Frendid said curtly, putting as much dignity into his voice as he could manage. How could a being who Frendid was confident had never seen frontline combat question an imperial infantry captain. In any other situation they couldn't, but the inquisitor's connection to the force awarded them, in the Emperor's eyes, more authority than someone who had served in the military for a decade. Frendid resisted his urge to shake his head again.

"That is fortunate, captain, I'd hate to see a person of your abilities go to waste for their failure." Frendid instinctively straightened his posture at the veiled threat, working to keep his tone even.

"I agree, Inquisitor." The inquisitor nodded, folding their hands behind their back and stepping up beside Frendid to look out the viewport of the walker they rode on. The imperial officer felt buried his discomfort at the inquisitor's presence. The ship lot proper was in Frendid's view now, and before he could give the order to commence the attack, the Inquisitor turned and said offhandedly,

"I'm heading down. Tell your troops to commence the attack." Frendid internally bristled at the Inquisitor's offensively nonchalant attitude, but nodded nonetheless. He opened his mouth to give the order when he heard the sound of the walker's entry hatch being opened. He spun just in time to see a black blur jump through it. He sighed.

"Tell all squads to begin advancing on the rebel positions."

* * *

The inquisitor jumped out of the walker and landed on the ground with grace worthy of a professional athlete. Some stormtroopers turned in their direction and, after seeing what had caused the noise, spun their heads back to the abandoned ship lot. Whispers spread throughout the ranks, and most had the common sense not to look back at the inquisitor just behind them.

The inquisitor steeped themselves in the force, reaching out for any potential candidates for manipulation. They touched the minds of a dozen or so lieutenants and sergeants, reading their emotions; it was, on average, fear mixed with uncertainty while some replaced uncertainty with grim determination. The inquisitor, beginning to question if this cell had anybody worth their time, found one; their emotions were grim determination and, unexpectedly, excitement. The Inquisitor smirked. This one was a mandalorian, no less.

The smirk remained on their face even as a rocket came hurtling toward one of the imperial walkers. The rebel line opened up with a volley of blue, green, and red bolts that were met a moment later with a series of moans and faint clattering. A stormtrooper in front of the inquisitor screamed as a laser seared a hole in their abdomen. The inquisitor side stepped the laser, deflecting a bolt that cae soaring toward their form a second later. By this time the imperial troops had gotten their bearings, and began to return fire.

Another walker staggered as a rocket slammed into it's main body. Said walker fired back at whoever fired the rocket, only to be struck by another a moment later; this one hit one of the legs, and the walker fell forward, scattering stormtroopers in its wake. The inquisitor was still steadily advancing along with Frendid's troopers, occasionally deflecting bolts, but staying smug. A stormtrooper had their weapon shot out of their hand next to them. The trooper dove to the ground, only to get a laser to the forehead a moment later. Another got shot in the arm and fell, writhing on the ground in pain, groaning loudly. The inquisitor paid them no mind.

The rebels, though, didn't have numbers on their side, and the fighting soon devolved into a melee only moments after the imperial forces reached their fortifications. The din of battle was soon the only thing the inquisitor could hear, and they saw stormtroopers and rebels savagely combating each other with anything they could scrounge up; rocks, the butts of their rifles, pieces of permacrete…

The inquisitor sidestepped a clumsy, emotionally-fueled swing at them from a rebel holding a vibroblade; its edge gleamed for a moment in the light of Sereno's sun. The inquisitor grabbed their arm, giving it a hard yank. They stumbled comically forward, eyes shooting wide open when the inquisitor, in one smooth motion, drew and ignited their lightsaber, and drove it into the rebel's gut. They withdrew it a moment later, deflecting a stray blaster bolt casually. The rebels were fighting valiantly, yet the sheer number of imperials was overwhelming. A rocket soared into a walker - Frendid's walker - and struck the main gun. The armament exploded and the walker staggered back; the rebel crew reloaded and a second later fired another shot to one of the walker's legs. The inquisitor sensed Frendid's terror as it fell forward, crushing several imperial and rebellion forces. Those who escaped the walker's destruction went back to fighting; a rebel straggler, shellshocked, was caught off guard when the inquisitor beheaded them from behind. For a moment their frame was still, and then collapsed to the harsh permacrete of the ship lot turned battlefield.

The inquisitor deflected a an orange bolt from behind them, spinning to do so, only to deflect another a moment later. They saw a figure wearing battle armor and a helmet with a helmet that had T-shaped visor standing fifteen metres away from them, a blaster held in each hand. The inquisitor's smirk grew more mirthful. They'd found the mandalorian.

The mandalorian fired two more shots - both of which were dismissively reflected - and activated their jetpack. They soared into the air, moving up and to the right, firing shots all the while. The inquisitor defended against all their bolts, throwing their lightsaber in an arch towards the mando'a's torso. They weakened their jetpack's thrusters, dropping just low enough to avoid the inquisitor's lightsaber. The weapon returned to its owner as the mando'a began another barrage of blaster bolts. They fired off shot after shot as the inquisitor slowly made their way toward them. Orange bolts went flying off into the distance over and over again, until the inquisitor was just five metres away from them.

Panic rising, they drew a staff from their back just as another sound rose above the cacophony of the battle. The roar of a ship joined the din, and the inquisitor broke off from their attack as the ship - a small, heavily-armed freighter by the looks of it - shot at the only remaining imperial walker, which had yet to be rocketed. The walker, not designed to deal with such stress, exploded. The walker's explosion caused a flash that bought the mandalorian enough time to put a good ten metres' distance between them and the inquisitor. The inquisitor's smirk dropped for the first time, replaced with a frustrated scowl. The freighter circled once more over the battlefield, thinning the imperial lines before lowering its boarding ramp.

A solitary silhouette jumped down from it, igniting a golden lightsaber mid-air. The freighter flew away, but the inquisitor was too stunned to notice; the only person known to have a golden lightsaber was the fugitive Ezra Bridger…

The inquisitor's smirk returned in full. They turned their attention away from the mandalorian they were fighting. The prestige they'd gain from killing Ezra Bridger would be enormous. Bridger turned the hood of their cloak towards the inquisitor as he saw them approaching him. The inquisitor ignited their lightsaber's second blade, grinning behind their mask. Without a word Bridger and the inquisitor began circling.

"I'm surprised you'd show yourself again, Bridger. Imperial intelligence reported that you were on the verge of collapse after Malachor V." Ezra didn't respond, remaining silent. The inquisitor perked up a brow; everything they'd read said he was often witty during combat.

"Silence?" They asked mockingly, "has that planet really affected you as much as the reports said?" Ezra didn't respond, allowing his anger to build. The pair continued circling as the battle raged just beyond them.

"Are you going to attack or shall I begin executing your death sentence?" The inquisitor said. Ezra snorted derisively.

"I'll be executing yours."

* * *

 **I don't have much to say this time around. I just hope you enjoyed the read. Any reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ezra flew** at the inquisitor, somersaulting over them, and landing on his feet easily. The inquisitor had only the time to spin to face him when a golden blur came hurtling toward their neck. They caught the strike, shunting it to their right and riposting, only for that to be met with a block of Ezra's own. The teen, moving on instincts drilled into him relentlessly by Maul, followed up the block with a riposte of his own, twirling away when the inquisitor stuck out their blade towards his chest. The inquisitor was about to begin an attack sequence, but was forced to break it off when Ezra flew at them once more.

He was just as fast the second time around, and the inquisitor, much to their frustration, was defending instead of attacking. They used both blades to block the teen's strikes, their weapons colliding with harsh, short cracks and fizzles. The sounds of their blades and the flashes of red and gold drew the attention of several imperial and rebellion troops, yet most gave the combatants a wide berth. Ships were taking off in the distance, the inquisitor noted, but the honor of killing Ezra Bridger would more than make up for not catching them. The inquisitor, distracted by their thoughts for a moment, found Ezra's blade dangerously close to their neck once more. They caught the attack, this time sending a kick to Ezra's stomach. The teen, surprised by the unexpected vector of attack, went skidding back a few metres.

The inquisitor took the lapse in Ezra's defense and ran with it, deactivating their second lightsaber blade and sprinting forward to deliver a sweeping slash to Ezra's waist. The teen caught the attack, directing the offending blade upward, and for a brief moment the inquisitor saw the teen's face; their hood had obscured it, but now the inquisitor saw Ezra in his new, dark glory. His skin was paler than the picture his dossier showed, and his hair had the same midnight blue hue. His eyes, however, unsettled the inquisitor: they had a yellow ring around the iris, contrasting with its natural blue colour. Their discomfort was only heightened by Ezra's bared teeth.

Within a second, though, the red light of the inquisitor's lightsaber blade wasn't illuminating Ezra's face. The teen spun away like he had all the times before, and this time the inquisitor was determined to get the better of him. They raised their lightsaber to execute a savage overhead cleaving movement down the center of Ezra's head, only for the strike to be met by a fast, equally savage slash of Ezra's. Their blades locked for a moment before Ezra jumped back and, almost immediately after, somersaulted forward to attack once again. The inquisitor parried the simple, crude strikes easily. Ezra twirled away, flying at the inquisitor again. They blocked the next series of attacks with similar disdain, but found, after several more passes, a realisation creeping into their mind: the teen was using Form VII, Juyo.

He had only used the most basic sequences so far, and his blows might have been crude, but the mere fact that he was using the form was what shocked the inquisitor. Where had he learnt it? The holocron from the temple on Malachor V? One inquisitor had survived their time there, and had reported a bright, purple flash from the top of the temple shortly before the rebels left. The holocron was the most likely reason, yet there was another: Darth Maul. That would've been worrying He may have been at large, but there was no way…

The inquisitor was forced the break off that train of thought as Ezra came forward with another Juyo sequence, slashing viciously at them. Each strike was met with cool parries by the inquisitor, who began to see desperation creep into Ezra's movements. They were getting slower, sloppier with each strike. And finally, with a cruel, vindictive smile across their face, the inquisitor parried a slash meant for their collar bone and followed it up with a lightning-quick disarming movement. They then ignited their second blade, and with a vertical flick of the wrist sent it towards Ezra's crotch. The teen jumped back, and the inquisitor prepared to deliver the finishing blow... yet they weren't able to.

Ezra's right leg went rocketing towards their shins once more, with the inquisitor avoiding the blow with a simple upward hop. By the time their feet hit the ground again, Ezra had stood up. Another kick came hurtling towards their head, which they ducked under. As soon as Ezra's leg touched the permacrete of the ship lot turned battlefield the inquisitor reversed their grip of their weapon, driving it toward Ezra's heart. The teen twirled away as the inquisitor attacked again. He back flipped away a moment later, narrowly avoiding the inquisitor's following strike, a cleave that went diagonally downward from his right shoulder to his waist.

"Why do you insist on fighting? You are outmatched!" They shouted, to which Ezra lowered his hood and shrugged his cloak off his shoulders. The inquisitor saw his attire; he wore a simple pair of black pants, a shirt that was a slightly lighter shade than his pants, and black combat boots. Without his cloak on, the inquisitor saw the rising and falling of him chest and the sweat he'd built up over the course of their duel as it gleamed from the light of Sereno's primary. Along with everything else, Ezra also had another lightsaber hanging from his waist; it was angular with a mix of blacks and grays, with a guard above the ignition button. Again, the inquisitor was surprised. A second blade could've been used to employ the Jar'kai techniques… if Ezra even knew what that was. Even more questions were created from the inquisitor's observations, all of which they pushed to the back of their mind.

The battle had died down, and most rebel troops had fled back into their base and into the transport ships their cell was using to evacuate. The inquisitor and Ezra, however, were staring each other down with equal hatred in their eyes. Ezra reached out a hand, beginning to call his lightsaber to his hands when the inquisitor caught it, shouting once more.

"Why do you?!" They screamed, voice shrill. The exasperation they felt was only exacerbated when Ezra began to reach for the other lightsaber one his belt. A moment later the inquisitor ignited Ezra's lightsaber and threw it at him. The blade spun horizontally in the air, with its owner ducking under it, missing the blade with only centimetres to spare. Then, when it began flying back to the inquisitor's hand, Ezra shot up. With adrenaline pumping through him, Ezra dove after it, fingers wrapping around the handle a second before it would have been out of reach. Grinning at his victory despite the awkwardness of his movement, Ezra scrambled to his feet, only to see the inquisitor's armored frame flying toward him. He raised his lightsaber just in time to intercept the inquisitor's cleave. There was a crackle as the two plasma weapons collided, and another as the inquisitor ignited their second blade and flicked it vertically upward and Ezra parried.

The teen's satisfaction had faded along with their grin as they jumped back from a follow up attack by the inquisitor. He ducked under another attack and sent a sweeping to kick to the inquisitor's legs. His leg hit home, buying him time to backflip away, putting a dozen metres between him and the inquisitor. They growled primally and activated the blade-saw function of their lightsaber. The two lightsaber blades rotated around the circle that surrounded their lightsaber's handle. They soon became blurs, and the inquisitor advanced slowly towards Ezra, knowing the teen could not counter the function. Ezra closed his eyes, gathering his energies. The inquisitor got several paces closer to him.

The roar of a ship's engines, though, drew the attention of both combatants; a repainted CIS shuttle flew over the inquisitor. It made a beeline for Ezra and the inquisitor, to whom victory had seemed certain only moments earlier, broke into a desperate sprint. Ezra realised that, at their pace, the inquisitor would mince him if he didn't do something. Frowning in concentration, Ezra, after a moment, stuck out his arm. The inquisitor sensed the attack a moment before he released the telekinetic energy. Caught off guard, the inquisitor flew back, lightsaber flying from their hand. They righted themselves in the air and landed on one knee, skidding a few metres back. The called their lightsaber to their hands, igniting it and looking up.

Yet, by that time, the shuttle had allowed Ezra to board and was flying off. The inquisitor watched the shuttle leave Sereno's atmosphere, letting out an animal cry of rage that echoed widely. Breathing heavily, the inquisitor looked around them; bodies littered the landscape, and small inset were already swarming over the dead bodies. After a few moments to calm themselves somewhat, they reached out with the force, searching for signatures in the rebel base. They found two dozen. _Good,_ the inquisitor thought. They needed something to take their anger out on.

* * *

Ezra leaned back against the wall of the CIS shuttle, letting a breath enter and exit him. He'd collected his traveling cloak before boarding the rebel transport, and found the garment was good at making people not want to talk to him. Many did, however, stare. Oh, did they stare.

Ezra didn't blame them; he'd been reported missing for two years, stealing a rebellion ship in the process. He was a ghost. He should have been dead; the rebels probably had a grave for him. He was certain the crew of the _Ghost_ had likely already mourned him as if he were dead.

And then he came flying back into the Alliance's hands, the catalyst for a narrow escape of one of their cells. He'd went toe-to-toe with an inquisitor, saving a familiar-looking mandalorian. He knew what he'd done would probably spread throughout the Alliance as soon as the shuttle touched down on a rebel base. He could hear Sabine's voice in his head, shocked and determined.

 _"Y-you're back…. Where have you been?! We thought you were dead!"_ Ezra also recalled Zeb's voice, too.

 _"Karabast, kid. You've been missing for two years. Where the hell'ave you been?"_ Hera's voice, motherly and bewildered, rang through Ezra's mind.

 _"Ezra… where have you been? You go missing for a day on Lothal and I worry about you, and now you just disappear from the face of the galaxy for_ two _years? We thought you were dead…"_

Ezra shook his head, silently cursing his master for giving him this mission in the first place. Then the thought hit him - truly hit him - of what he'd be encountering when or if he got to Yavin IV: Kanan Jarrus.

Ezra cringed internally at himself. He'd realised that reconnecting with Kanan again would be something was likely within minutes of receiving this assignment from Maul - even shared his worries with his master - but the zabrak had come back with the same line every time: _"Does this mean you believe you aren't up to the task for this assignment?"_ To which Ezra's answer was always no. Maul couldn't doubt him. He had an apprentice before, too; were they culled because of weakness, or the stability the zabrak had mentioned? Either way, Ezra had no idea, and he realized now that Maul had no idea of what he should do - or he did and was withholding as another test. Ezra resisted the urge to punch something.

He raised his head, fighting through the stiffness that had developed in his neck during his musings. He frowned, scanning the interior of the CIS shuttle; he could have used a seat (there was open near the end, after all) yet it was, conveniently, as far away from the other rebels as it could be. A hint of amusement showed in Ezra's eyes for a moment before they settled back into a neutral that matched his face. Most of the rebels had fallen asleep, using the seats to awkwardly do so. All save one.

This rebel was the mandalorian Ezra had inadvertently saved. Their armor was made up of plates that covered their chest, shoulders, and knees. A skin-tight suit under said plates that seemed more designed for comfort than anything else with a tan combat boots completed the outfit. Ezra rolled his eyes as they approached him. Vanity was something he found stupid; it attracts attention. That, presumably, with the state the galaxy was in, wasn't something you would want. But, as Ezra had seen multiple times over, many disregarded that kernel of knowledge.

The teen made himself a stand a bit straighter as they got closer. He tried to send them the message he didn't want to talk, but they didn't get the message, it seemed, as they eventually stood across from him.

"So, who exactly are you?" they asked, crossing their arms. Another hint of amusement passed over Ezra. Who did they think they were, questioning him? He could kill everyone on this ship in a matter of minutes. Yet, responding would help his reputation within the rebellion (which was already shaky).

Finally, Ezra responded. Not with words, but a simple lowering of his hood. The mandalorian across from him felt her jaw become loose behind their helmet: they were looking at Ezra Bridger. Cautiously, they took off their helmet.

The face of Ketsu Onyo with shock in her eyes stared at Ezra unabashedly. Ezra's eyes twinkled with amusement for another second, though it went by so fast that Ketsu questioned if it ever existed.

"Surprised?" Ezra asked her, his tone even. Ketsu gathered herself, a glare replacing her surprise.

"Shut up." she snapped, "And yes, I am. You were declared dead a year ago, and now you're talking to me." Ezra nodded in understanding to that.

"So I was officially dead on arrival when I got here, then?" Ketsu shook her head to the pun, a playful smirk crossing her features. Ezra didn't reciprocate it.

"Where have you been?" the mandalorian asked him. Ezra didn't hesitate with his response.

"Its personal." he said cooly, causing a raised eyebrow from Ketsu. "Where are we even heading, anyway?" he followed up, eager to direct the conversation away from his time on Dathomir. Ketsu's expression remained curious for a few moments before her face went to a neutral, mirroring Ezra's.

"Chopper Base," she said matter-of-factly. Ezra silently cursed himself and his luck. He forgot about that place. If he was going to meet the _Ghost_ crew, the base they'd themselves set up would be the place.

"That's good," he said, though he sounded as if he was just told that Empire Day had come early. Ketsu nodded, and after a few more moments of awkward silence between them, she turned away from Ezra and headed to the cockpit, leaving the teen to his own thoughts.

However things at Chopper Base would go down, Ezra doubted that his friends would react well.

* * *

 **Again, not much to say to you guys. I just hope you enjoyed the read. Any and all reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ezra scowled** as he watched the other rebels leave the CIS shuttle. They all came single-file, and with disciplined postures. Ketsu lead the group, nodding towards Ezra as she passed him. The teen wiped his scowl off his face, putting up the best blank face he could muster, and joined the line at the very back. The hood of his cloak was raised, concealing his features. Fighting his own trepidation, Ezra descended down the boarding ramp.

He was nervous for two reasons; one, meeting Kanan, and two, the other lightsaber hanging from his hip. The darksaber. Maul had given it to him before he left, explaining to him that to was to be a gift not only to the rebellion, but to Sabine, who would be the most likely to pry at the specifics of his cover story. More than the others, to be accurate. Kanan would be a whole other thing to deal with: if anyone was going to sniff out the emergence of Ezra's dark tendencies, it would be him.

Currently Ezra was suppressing the thin yellow rings around both of his irises; it was difficult, and Ezra knew combat could easily bring out said rings, but for the moment his eyes were pure blue. He followed the group blindly, until he sensed half a dozen force signatures behind him. They were dim; nearly void of the force. Ezra let himself be separated from the rebels he'd been following, seeing exactly what those signatures were; they were Alliance infantry, and each was armed with an E-11 blaster rifle. The teen sensed their collective mix of confusion and fear as they encircled him. With his pitch-black cloak and KIA status within the Alliance, he didn't fault them for their emotions. If anything, he welcomed them; feeding off them gave him a small amount of confidence, which he desperately needed at the moment.

Finally a trooper approached him, disbelief obvious in his eyes.

"Are you Ezra Bridger?" he asked, struggling to hide his nerves. Ezra's response was to throw back the hood of him cloak, and the soldier gave a quiet gasp. He whispered into what Ezra assumed to be a comm in his helmet before speaking to him again.

"Hand over your weapons and follow us, Admiral Sato requests an immediate meeting with you." Ezra nodded curtly, reluctantly reaching inside his cloak and handing over both his personal lightsaber and the darksaber. The Alliance troopers made a circle around him, rifles clutched in their hands to the point of whitening knuckles. Ezra, on the other hand, put up a face of neutrality, attempting to quell the parts of him that were screaming that this was a horrible idea, and that he should just take a ship and take whatever punishment Maul would have lined up for him when he got back to Dathomir. The teen continued to struggle with his emotions as he was lead to the command center of Chopper Base, his blood running cold when he saw the welcoming party he was met with: the entirety of the _Ghost_ crew.

Admiral Sato was to their left, hands folded behind his back and a frown across his weathered face. Rex stood to the right of the _Ghost_ crew, giving Ezra a simultaneously shocked and suspicious look. The crew members that made up the _Ghost_ were a kaleidoscope of emotions.

All had varying degrees of shock on their faces, Sabine standing out for her seeming inability to keep her jaw from slacking. Hera's face was one of unabashed disbelief and concern; Zeb's was ditto except an unwanted grin was tugging at the edges of his face; Kanan's was identical to Hera's but soon turned analytical. Ezra didn't speak; he stared back, doing his best to quash the emotion that threatened his neutral facade. Sato looked between the _Ghost_ crew and Ezra, finally breaking the tense silence that had developed and reigned for over two minutes.

"Ezra…" he began, falling silent almost immediately afterward. The admiral pursed his lips, finding no more eloquent way to state the obvious.

"...to put it bluntly, you have been reported dead for a year. Dead people are not supposed to reappear after they've been reported so." Ezra nodded, not having a good idea of how to respond. The tense silence from earlier returned, broken by Zeb after another minute passed.

"Kid, where the hell'ave ya been?" asked the lasat. Sato sent him a disapproving glance, but nonetheless nodded.

"I must agree, Ezra, where _have_ you been for the past two years?" at this Ezra shook his head, putting as much diplomacy into his tone as he could find.

"I apologize, Admiral, but that information is for the _Ghost_ crew." the teen stated. Sato's eyes turned severe and suspicious, as did Rex's, but Ezra didn't falter. Hera looked back between the three, finally approaching Sato and saying,

"Admiral, could I talk to you privately?" Sato nodded curtly, following the twi'lek to a shadowed corner of the command center. A few minutes later, he and Hera took up their previous positions. Sato spoke, face showing his dissatisfaction with the situation.

"Very well. You may tell the _Ghost_ crew your story," he gestured for Rex and the squad of troopers to follow him. The elderly clone did, shooting Ezra one last glance before he, the troopers, and Sato headed off to another section of the base. When the admiral was finally out of earshot, Hera spoke.

"Ezra, could you explain what you've been doing for the past two years?" she asked, though Ezra identified it as a command. The matriarchal tone the twi'lek had developed when speaking to him was dripping from her words. Ezra sighed, partly out of the theatrical need but mainly out of his actual need to do so. He placed his hands on the edges of the holographic display console the command center had, taking a calming breath.

"I've spent two weeks attempting to sever my connection with Maul," he said, directing his eyes at the console he gripped. He was doing so for the same reasons he'd sighed earlier.

"The night I disappeared was when Maul attempted to take control of me for the second time," Ezra paused for effect. "the thing was, he succeeded that time." Hera and Sabine collectively gasped, Zeb did a double take, and Kanan's frown deepened. Before any of them could speak up, Ezra continued.

"He stole a ship with my body, and eventually left me in a room with a locked door, and no lightsaber; but it had a vent. I managed to squeeze through it and direct the ship to Lothal's system," Ezra paused at that point, sensing a question about to burst from Sabine. He gave the mandalorian a curt nod, and he spoke what was on her compatriots' minds.

"Why didn't you contact us? We could've helped you!" she said, a hint of anger in her tone. Ezra looked at her, raising a brow.

"Really? You think any of you could've helped me? No offense, but nobody could've helped me. I didn't contact you guys because Maul might've taken control of me and used the ship I was on to lure you guys into a trap," the teen explained, silently releasing an internal sigh of relief when Sabine fell silent. They seemed to have accepted that part. Good.

"I had to sever my connection with Maul, and I didn't anybody else dragged into it," Ezra went on, praying his reasoning would make sense. "So I went to the farthest planet I could find in explored space to do it." Kanan's head tilted to the left slightly, making Ezra's heart skip a beat. Had he finally sensed the changes in him? Maul had spent months teaching Ezra to perfect his ability to cloak himself in the force, but was Kanan strong enough to see through his illusion? Or had he finally realised he couldn't sense Ezra at all and was curious? Taking another steadying breath, Ezra pushed his emotions down and continued with his story.

"I spent two more weeks trying to break my connection with Maul; every night he'd torture me, but I always had enough fight left in me to stop him from manipulating my body. I only came back because that connection is gone." Kanan finally spoke up, making Ezra's heart begin to skyrocket. He put up his best mental barriers, and reinforced his calm façade.

"Maul already took control of you once, Ezra, and you suddenly find the energy to fight him?" the Jedi asked, crossing his arms. Ezra darkened his eyes for dramatic effect.

"You'd be surprised what a good motivator desperation is," Ezra could sense the cogs inside Kanan's head working, trying to find a flaw in what Ezra had said.

"And you kept this up for two weeks? Every night?" to that Ezra nodded, sighing as he did so.

"And you think I couldn't pull that off?" he asked accusingly. If he sounded like he was offended, Kanan would immediately try to calm him, buying Ezra time.

"...maybe. But he already knew what you were going to do and when you were going to do it. How'd you get past that?" Ezra finally looked up at his former master, darkening his eyes even more.

"Perseverance." that gave Kanan pause. But before he could ask the obvious, Zeb piped up.

"How do we even know that we're not talking to Maul anyway?" said the lasat, pointing an accusatory finger at Ezra.

"Would someone like Maul really struggle to kill an inquisitor?" that statement was more directed towards Kanan, but they rang true for every other crew member of the _Ghost_. All of them shook their heads, save the Jedi.

"How do we know Maul didn't throw that fight?" he asked. Ezra gave him a long, hard look.

"Because I fought him, Kanan. He wouldn't hold himself back." there wasn't any tense silence after that statement, because Ezra broke it before it could develop.

"I haven't finished my story, yet. Maul didn't know where I was until about two weeks after I fled, when he found me on the planet I'd fled to. He arrived and we dueled; I was disarmed in a minute, but I lashed out with the force before he could do anything more to me. He wasn't expecting the power I showed, and was flung back hard enough to knock him out cold." Ezra added a bit of pride to his words, hoping it would help his words be more convincing. Every member of the _Ghost_ crew looked to Kanan, who, after a moment's mulling over of Ezra's statement, nodded.

"That sounds reasonable. Those who focus on lightsaber combat often have weak force barriers. And you're strong in the force, Ezra," the smallest of smiles tugged at the edges of Kanan's mouth at his own words, but he suppressed it. "...and you're right, too. Desperation can enhance one's force abilities…" Kanan sighed, "I have to say I can believe that." the wave of relief that spread through Ezra at that nearly got through his emotional mask. Nearly. After looking at each crew member individually, he continued.

"I was stunned, honestly. My escape of the planet is a blur, really - you know, with my adrenaline and all," said Ezra, uncertainty clawing at him. But none of the crew seemed to have anything to say back, so he went on.

"I remember and getting my lightsaber back stealing Maul's ship, then setting it to plot a course for Lothal when it hit me: Maul was knocked out! He was vulnerable! So I set a course for the nearest habitable planet and mediated. It took several hours, and attempts, but eventually I broke the bond." the non-force sensitive crew members didn't speak up, but more noteworthy to Ezra, Kanan didn't either.

"I've spent the last two years trying to locate a rebel cell without being caught," the teen continued, feeling more confident. "The cell on Sereno happened to be closest to me; so I sold Maul's ship to a smuggler who had worked with them on the condition that he'd drop me off at their base. It turned out they were being attacked the day I showed up."

"That's an awful coincidence," said Kanan. Ezra smiled a bit.

"The force works in mysterious ways, master." Ezra looked at Kanan, internally hoping the force would help him.

"I suppose so," Kanan said after what felt like an eternity. He sounded doubtful, but he'd pulled some pretty ridiculous stunts himself. His survival of Order 66 standing out as fairly miraculous. Finally, he relented.

"Your story checks out decently well," the Jedi said carefully, "but even if you're accepted back, you'll be under suspicion for the foreseeable future. Is that okay with you Ezra?" the teen nodded vigorously, allowing himself a pleased smile.

"Do you want me to go to the _Ghost_? I'll stay there as long as you need me too," Ezra said, straightening himself. Hera and Kanan exchanged a look, and after a few seconds they nodded, heads in sync.

"As long as you're guarded, and I escort you." Kanan said. Ezra nodded obediently, smile beginning to fade. Hera turned towards Sabine and Zeb, saying:

"You two meet up with Rex and wait there until I get back." the pair followed Hera as she headed in the direction Rex had gone, Sabine giving Ezra sideways looks. Kanan gestured silently to Ezra, who dutifully followed behind him. Stares followed the pair as they made their way to the _Ghost_ , but Ezra ignored them. Kanan lead Ezra up the lowered boarding ramp and through the halls he'd walked two years ago.

Unbidden, a small twinge of nostalgia came to Ezra, which the teen quashed in short order. He followed Kanan until the Jedi opened the door to Hera's room. Ezra blinked.

Hera's room?

Confusion mixed with uncertainty as Kanan lead Ezra to a mat placed in the far left corner of the room, gesturing for him to sit down. The teen obeyed, dismissing the parts of him that were indignant at such treatment. He crossed his legs, still not lowering the hood of his cloak. Force, he was thankful for the garment right now.

"Stay here until either Hera or I tell you to, okay?" again, an order masked with a question. Ezra internally bristled at what he considered an insult to his intelligence, but nonetheless nodded. Kanan exited the room, leaving Ezra alone.

The teen allowed himself a calming, self-satisfied breath out. He'd done it; it wasn't official yet, but he was going to be reinstated into the Alliance. Nobody would question the wisdom of a Jedi - even discounting the fact that Kanan was the only one the Alliance had at the moment. Ezra felt a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth: not only was he set to be reinstated with the Alliance, he'd just given a performance that would have made even the most demanding of Alderranian directors proud.

* * *

 **I don't have much to say - again. This chapter was a tad difficult to write, but I feel Ezra's cover story made enough sense. Anyhoo, that's all for this author's note, so: any and all reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. 'Till next time. - Raging Celiac**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ezra sat,** cross-legged on the mat Kanan had shown him; his eyes were closed, breathing steady. He was meditating.

Not in the way Kanan had taught him, of course, as he was no longer searching for and feeling the ebb and flow of the light side; now he was searching for the light side's antithesis, feeling its own ebb and flow. Kanan would never approve, Ezra knew, but he wasn't confident that the Jedi could even find his force signature any more. However, he was equally unsure that Kanan hadn't already pegged him for the dark acolyte he had become. The teen took a slow, deep breath and reached out with the force, sweeping those thoughts aside.

There were two signatures outside the boarding ramp of the _Ghost_ , though both were pitifully dim. Another pair were outside the room Ezra had been confined to, each as forgettable and mundane as their comrades.

Ezra took another breath in, basking in the dark side. It crashed over him like a tidal wave, fully encompassing his spirit and wrapping itself around it. Ezra's expression didn't change as he drenched himself in it, and reached out. He looked past those of his guards, instead focusing on the brightest in the base: Kanan's.

It had been several hours since he'd left Ezra, and still the juxtaposition between his and Kanan's signatures unsettled the teen; Kanan was a beacon of light. Of warmth - of comfort; sympathy at its finest. Ezra's force signature had once mirrored Kanan's, but now it was a vortex of emotions; hate, anger, passion - all swirling throughout Ezra's spirit. Of course, that was when the teen wasn't concealing it.

Ezra opened his eyes, stretched, and stood up. He pushed down a yawn that threatened his composure as the door slid open. A green-skinned twi'lek stood in the doorway, who Ezra instantly recognized as Hera Syndulla, flanked by two burly rebel soldiers. Ezra regarded them with cool disregard, focusing his attention on the twi'lek.

"Ezra, we've decided." Hera said, causing a quirked brow from Ezra. The twi'lek was caught off-guard by the teen's expression; it was one that wasn't just curious - though to many it would seem so - it was impatient and demanding. It was one that seemed piercing - far too piercing for the blueberry Kanan had found three years ago.

"You're accepted back into the rebellion." at that, happiness flickered in Ezra's eyes. Hera thought he saw his lips beginning to curve into a smile before the teen forced them to form a flat line.

"Great," said Ezra. Hera nodded, adding,

"But you'll be under our supervision for the time being. A single toe out of line, and you're out." Ezra had a sneaking suspicion that "out" was really code for firing squad, but swept that thought aside.

Hera lead him to his and Zeb's old cabin, and the teen frowned.

"You're putting me back with Zeb?" Ezra asked. Hera shot him a suspicious look, turning to face him.

"No. Would you have a problem with sharing with him?" she responded. Ezra shook his head.

"No. Just wondering." Hera nodded, internally surprised: Ezra should have stuttered in his response, or at least seemed a little flustered… but he wasn't. His tone was calm, in an eerie way; it was too cool. Too… practiced. Hera shook her head lekku swaying as she did so. Ezra noted this, keeping his face neutral despite the frown that challenged his emotional mask; what did that mean? Being apprenticed to Maul had taught him that nothing was done without some reason. So a head shake, something that was universally known to be a negative sign, unnerved the teen.

Hera opened the door to the cabin, and Ezra felt memories flooding back to him; the stunts he and Zeb would pull together and to each other, how many times they'd chased Chopper out of their space, their collective shock at the mural Sabine had made of them getting shocked by Chopper… and then his eyes reached his bunk.

Where Maul had spent four weeks torturing him.

Where he'd tried and failed to keep Maul out, been broken, and had left in the middle of the night after their nightly sessions of mental slugging. Ezra wasn't able to suppress the small shiver that ran down his spine at those memories. Hera turned to face him, snapping Ezra out of his reverie.

"You'll be sleeping on the top bunk," she said, noticing the flash of discomfort that showed in Ezra's eyes at the mention of it. "Are you okay with that?" Ezra nodded vigorously, stiffening his stance a bit.

"You're belongings will be returned to you by the end of the day." the teen nodded, feeling the beginnings of anticipation developing in his psyche at the return of his weapons. He'd feel a bit safer when they were back. Hera finally ended the conversation with:

"And you're to stay in here until I or Kanan say you can leave." that made Ezra internally scowl, but he nodded despite his reservations. Hera let him approach and sit on his newly-given bed, leaving him in silence. Ezra sighed as the door closed, laying down on the bunk and feeling his eyelids becoming heavy within moments. It had been a long, stressful day, and he needed the rest.

The last thing he saw was Sabine's mural.

* * *

 _"How much longer, master?" Ezra wheezed. His body was aching over the day's exertion; he'd been woken up an hour before Dathomirian dawn, and had had a cold pale of water thrown in his face. That had snapped his senses back into gear. First came a workout with Maul that included, but was not limited to: laps around the nightsister fortress, rock climbing, and plain-old push and sit ups. That had been done until midday, when Ezra got a bowl of colourless, tasteless soup. After that came lightsaber training, which boiled down to Ezra suppressing his natural snarkiness whilst Maul berated his technique. Then, finally, came sparring. The rest of the day would have been more than enough for the teen, but Maul insisted on pushing him. He was in the last stage of the day at the moment._

 _"Not a standard minute than is necessary, apprentice," came Maul silkily, then his face turned stern._

 _"Now get into ready stance." Ezra did as he was told, forcing his screaming muscles into motion. Ezra mentally recited the sith code:_

 _Peace is a lie, there is only passion._

 _Through passion I gain strength,_

 _Through strength I gain victory,_

 _Through victory my chains are broken._

 _The force shall free me._

 _Ezra launched himself at Maul, employing form IV, ataru. The most acrobatic of the seven forms, Ezra quickly found it his favorite; it was aggressive and dynamic, trading defense for a speedy offense. It's main problem, though, was that it expended energy at an alarming rate. But despite this, Ezra's strikes were fluid and aggressive, all of which Maul batted away harmlessly with deft and tight defensive parries._

 _A few minutes in, Ezra began to tire. His movements became slower within minutes, despite the teens efforts to draw on the dark side to rejuvenate his limbs. With disdain, Maul smacked one of Ezra's slower strikes aside, striking him across the cheek with his training stick. The teen fell back at the zabrak's counter, onto Dathomir's soil. Maul stood over him, disgust across his face._

 _"Perhaps I was wrong about you," he murmured quietly. "That is enough for today." Ezra watched him stalk away, indignation and humiliation emotions roiling within him; he wanted to prove the zabrak wrong. He wanted to best him._

 _Rising to his feet, Ezra promised himself that he'd do better next time around._

* * *

It was the sound of the cabin door opening that snapped Ezra from his sleep. The teen shot up, head banging against the metal ceiling of the cabin as they did so. Ezra muttered a swear and looked around the room; it was just as it was when he fell asleep, yet there was a burly man in the doorway now. His heavy brow was furrowed in frustration at the weight of the duffle bag he carried, something he swore weighed several kilos more than it should've.

He unceremoniously threw it down, ignoring the _thump_ it made and making eye contact with Ezra; he glowered at the teen for a few moments.

"These are your things, kid." they said gruffly. Ezra nodded, sliding his cloak and off his bunk, doing so gracefully onto the floor. That made the man delivering the duffle bag glower even more. He left Ezra in silence, whilst the teen inspected the duffle bag's contents: there was a few pairs of pants and shirts, all of which were either gray or black. Ezra rummaged further and found what he had been desiring for the past few hours: his lightsabers.

He was quick to grasp and hang his personal lightsaber from his belt, but hesitated slightly when faced with the darksaber. It was a ticking time-bomb waiting to explode, and for Ezra to use. He guessed Sabine didn't know that he had it, or that anyone had recognized it; and him having it also meant Kanan likely didn't know he had it, either. He couldn't be sure, though… Ezra stopped himself.

Having been down similar lines of suspicious and conspiratorial thinking over the past two years, Ezra shook his head and stuffed the darksaber underneath all of the clothes the Alliance had provided.

Ezra zipped the duffle bag closed, heaving it over his shoulder and onto the end of his bunk. A moment after he did that, the cabin door opened again. Mentally shaking his head in weariness, he turned to face whoever was in the doorway. He steeled himself for it to be Sabine, Zeb, or even Kanan. The latter of the tree Ezra hoped wouldn't be there as he turned. When he faced his visitor, though, he felt his jaw drop.

He saw Hera, but that wasn't what made him unabashedly stare: the girl to the twi'lek's right did. They looked to be a girl of about seventeen, with a bright, striking mane of red hair tied in a simple yet elegant bun. Their eyes were a similarly striking gray, and that fact combined with the rest of their face left Ezra speechless. They, too, stared back, equally flabbergasted. Ezra's face was completely different to how they'd last seen it; before it had been properly boyish and prepubescent with the development of a fourteen year-old, but now it was angular, with paler skin, and a more pronounced jawline. The black robes he wore showed his slimmer, more lithe wasn't the Ezra they remembered at all. Hera looked between both parties, confused, but nonetheless spoke.

"Ezra, this is Moreena Krai," Hera gestured to Moreena, "Moreena." then to Ezra. "Ezra." A few more moments passed, with neither Moreena or Ezra finding the courage to speak. Hera frowned.

"Is there something I don't know going on here?" she asked suspiciously. She looked between both teens once more, seeing equal amounts of shock in both their faces. Another thirty seconds passed. Hera looked between Ezra and Moreena one final time, before shaking her head in exasperation.

"Fine." she huffed. "I guess I'm not supposed to know." Again, Hera didn't get any response. The twi'lek, submitting defeat, sighed heavily, the wears of the day showing themselves across her face.

"Just get acquainted okay?" to that both Ezra and Moreena nodded, still staring at each other with disbelief. Hera left with a suspicious look to both. After the door shut, Ezra found his courage to speak.

"M-mori?" croaked Ezra. "Is that you?" the first thought that passed through Ezra's mind was how cliché that line was, which he ignored. This wasn't the Moreena he remembered, either. She'd hit puberty earlier than him, but now she'd… filled out. He spent time with Black Sun vigos, who very often had prostitutes walking around with them, all of which were attractive and voluptuous. At first they drew his teenage eyes, but eventually he became apathetic to them. That same apathy should have rung true with Moreena - but it didn't. Ezra mentally scolded himself, forcing his eyes up to her face and away from Moreena's body.

"Moreena?" he repeated, only realising then that the first time he spoke he'd used a nickname. Mentally he scolded himself, only stopping when Moreena rocketed toward him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and back. That gave Ezra pause.

He hadn't been hugged or hugged anyone in two years, let alone let himself be touched by someone without his permission. Only Maul had the power to do that, but he'd never done anything as sympathetic as this. Ezra suppressed the mutinous and indignant thoughts that rose in response to that realisation; Maul had made him stronger - helped him see the fallacy in what Kanan had taught him. But the sheer warmth he felt at the moment felt strange and alien; he hadn't felt anything like it in two years. It was like a volcano erupting in the middle of a snowstorm; utterly jarring and shocking yet at the same time slightly welcome.

Moreena withdrew from the hug after a few seconds, stepping back with curiosity in her eyes.

"Ez?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Ezra blinked, barely able to suppress the blush that threatened his face.

"Is something wrong?" there was concern in her voice - which gave Ezra pause again. That wasn't something he'd heard in two years. Gulping, sure that Moreena noticed, he shook his head.

"No," he said, hoping was voice sounded more sure than he felt. "I'm fine." Suspicion flashed in Moreena's eyes, and for a moment Ezra feared that she'd somehow seen through his emotional mask. But soon she grinned again, and Ezra felt relief.

"Where have you been?" asked Moreena. Ezra sighed, theatrics mixing with need. He approached his bunk and climbed up to sit on it, slouching at bit, and looking back at Moreena with what he hoped was convincing emotion.

"You mean Hera didn't tell you?" Ezra said, surprised. The _Ghost_ crew had always been fairly open with each other, and Moreena wasn't there when he explained himself… so she was likely a recent addition. And the fact that Hera asked if there was something between them meant that Moreena hadn't opened herself up to the twi'lek yet. In his musings, Ezra almost missed Moreena shaking her head - almost.

"No, she didn't." said Moreena, and Ezra detected a small hint of bitterness in voice. "If you feel comfortable sharing it though…"

Ezra didn't have to tell her, then. But it would be in his best interest to tell her, if nothing else so she wouldn't be hounding after his sighed again.

"You sure you want to know?" he asked quietly. Moreena nodded firmly, a determined expression across her face. After sending a glance to the floor for effect, Ezra began speaking again.

* * *

 **Welp. The cat is out of the proverbial bag. Props to anybody who guessed who Moreena was before she was revealed. She wasn't even a character I could select, so I'm guessing that group is pretty small. Still, though, she isn't an OC. She has an article of wookiepedia, I promise.**

 **And… that's it. I hope this chapter was good enough for you guys. Any and all reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac**


	7. Chapter 7

**Moreena laid** on her back, hands folded behind her head. The lights were off in the cabin she shared with Ezra, the former having gone to sleep a few minutes earlier. Despite the darkness, her eyes had by that point adjusted to it.

She was staring up at the bunk above hers, upon which Ezra Bridger slept. The childhood friend that had once joked, deadpanned, and laughed his way through a difficult life now seemed to be a block of ice. Not that she expected him to be happy telling his story of the past two years to her, but part of her had been hoping his trademark half-grin or a bad pun to break the awkward and somber silence that had developed after he'd finished his explanation. He'd simply given her a pointed, almost regretful look before he climbed up to his bunk.

Moreena silently sighed, narrowing her eyes, as if they could see through the durasteel of Ezra's bunk. Reuniting with him was exciting for her in the beginning; no one in this cell knew much about her other than that she came from Lothal. Seeing such a familiar face should have been happy for the both of them, but Ezra never cracked a smile throughout the entire affair. If anything, Moreena thought she saw a brief flash of relief cross his face before he'd climbed up to his bunk.

She wasn't certain whether he'd fallen asleep or not, or if he was doing something akin to what she was doing. Still, though, the substance of his story was going to keep her up.

Firstly, he'd said that he was force-sensitive. Meaning he could touch the force.

Moreena had, of course, questioned this; to which Ezra simply extended his right hand, opened his palm, and flying in came the small self-defense blaster she kept in her right boot. Then he tossed it up into the air, Moreena bolted up to catch it before it fell, but soon found its downward movement had stopped. Ezra just sat there, looking at her. Moreena had blinked, felt embarrassment flood her, and sat down, staring at Ezra; what he'd done in that moment - with no apparent effort, too - amazed her. Needless to say, she believed that he could touch the force now.

Then came his story.

And that, out of everything he'd told her that night, every revelation, change, was completely horrifying to her. He'd said that a sith lord named Maul had, after a mission to the planet Malachor V, spent a month mentally attacking him every night until he broke in; and went on to claim that the sith had then gone further, eventually taking control of his body - somehow - and making it transport itself to him… until Ezra regained control. Moreena shook her head.

It hurt her brain to even imagine what Ezra had been through, let alone that that same sith lord was still out there and at large; it made her afraid. Tentatively, she'd asked if Maul could do that again, and with even more awkwardness if she was even talking to Ezra. He wasn't upset, to her relief (or at least didn't seem so), and replied with a firm no, explaining that he'd broken the force bond between him and Maul nearly a year and a half earlier, and that she had nothing to worry about. Moreena, on the inside, was slightly skeptical of that claim, but couldn't find the courage to voice her thoughts. She was willing to bet that that could have tested his patience, and she didn't know how fragile or strong Ezra was at the moment; it might have been two years ago, but if what he said was true, he was likely still hurt by Maul's actions.

Again, the girl shook her head.

The night had started, for her, with happiness and ended in somber contemplation. Ezra, she was sure, had changed, but to what confused her. His experience with Maul would be the logical explanation for his less than bubbly demeanor, but some part of Moreena - a small, insignificant part - said that something was off. Yet the story had been good enough for Kanan, so it should have been good enough for her.

But it wasn't.

She wasn't certain why, and couldn't ascertain what was wrong with Ezra's story, but it didn't sit it right with something inside her. Moreena sighed. _Just go to sleep,_ she told herself, rolling over. _You're not gonna find out anything when he's asleep._

* * *

 _Everything hurt. Just everything. Every fiber of Ezra's being screamed out, pain signals wracking his body and nerves, making the teen unsteady._

 _Maul sat a few dozen feet above him, leisurely leaned back against the ledge of the cliff face he'd had Ezra climbing. The teen almost despised this as much as he did Maul himself, the one forcing him to do it._

 _His arms ached from having to push him upward, rock after rock, in his attempts to reach Maul. His core was sore, too, along with his legs. His knuckles and wrists had splatters of dried crimson coating them from where Ezra cut himself on the sharper rocks. His hair was matted and darkened with sweat, tickling the back of his neck. He knew he smelled horrible, as even he could smell the stench wafting off him._

 _Ezra raised his head, squinting at the outline of Maul, breathing heavily. He glared at the zabrak, clenching his fists, allowing his anger to fuel him. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, allowing the dark side to flow through him, and within a few minutes his muscles' aching faded. Ezra raised his head, unclenched his fists, and found a rock he could use. He put a hand on it, and pushed himself up, then found another and pushed himself upward again, finding a ledge and rising to that, taking in a breath._

 _He repeated the process._

 _Fifteen minutes more climbing had him only half a dozen feet closer to Maul, palms coated with sweat. He looked up, wiping a some off his forehead with a wet hand; finding the added moisture to the limb disgusting, Ezra opted to shake his hands. A few drops went flying off the mountain, and the teen found another rock._

 _He climbed a further six feet upward, feeling a small amount of confidence appear on the edges of his mind as he steadied himself on a ledge. Letting a breath enter and exit himself, Ezra made the mistake of looking down; he was at least twenty four feet above the ground, and while he thought he'd conquered his fear of heights long ago, the vertigo for this was different. The stakes were different. If he failed he not only risked death, but also Maul's disappointment. The zabrak had been seemingly losing his patience with Ezra over the past week, as the teen was seriously struggling with climbing this mountain. It infuriated Ezra, but he also knew that he couldn't lose his cool at this height without making a mistake and meeting the ground with his one and only irreplaceable carcass._

 _Ezra looked at Maul's silhouette, grinding his teeth. He swept away the aching in his muscles that had begun to return in his musings, clenching his fists. He looked around him and found that there weren't any rocks within reach. At that realisation Ezra blinked and looked back at Maul again; the zabrak's outline was now facing him, its head tilted to the side to show their bemusement. Ezra looked back, desperation clear in his eyes. But then the outline turned away to Dathomir's setting primary._

 _Panic beginning to rise, Ezra found that while there weren't any rocks within immediate reach, there_ was _one within jumping distance; it was a foot above the teen and to his right._

 _Great._

 _Narrowing his eyes, Ezra turned in the direction of the rock, his only hope to rise further. Bending his knees and brushing aside his rebellious thoughts about the leap, Ezra cleared his mind. All he had to do was jump._

 _That was it._

 _Letting instinct guide him, Ezra jumped towards the rock, fingers of both hands wrapping around it at the last moment. Shaking, the teen pushed himself up, balancing on the rock with one foot. Aware of precariousness of his balance, Ezra found a rock to rest his other foot against and, to his surprise, a ledge in reach above it. Grinning inwardly, Ezra grasped the ledge's edge and hoisted his body upward. A minute later he'd finally gotten both feet comfortably on the ledge. Letting a breath in his mouth and out his nostrils, Ezra found another rock to use. He grasped it, and repeated the process again._

 _A half-hour later Ezra had finally reached Maul, a satisfied smirk across his face. The zabrak turned to face him, giving an approving nod._

 _"Well done, apprentice," he complimented, before turning back around. "Now mirror me." Maul, to Ezra's utter bewilderment, then jumped off the ledge that he'd perched himself atop, causing his smirk to falter. It was soon replaced with a look of abject shock, along with Ezra's jaw going slack. He simply stared at the spot where Maul had jumped, frozen. Only sixty seconds later, the teen heard a loud thump and blinked. He looked over the edge, squinting to find Maul. When he found nothing, he stepped back until he could lean against the mountain and, numb, sat down against it._

 _"Did you misunderstand me, apprentice?" Maul asked ringingly in Ezra's mind. The teen jumped, snapping out of his shock, taking a few moments to compose himself before replying._

 _"How am I supposed to protect myself?" he shot back incredulously, and he heard a mirthless chuckle from Maul echo in his head._

 _"How else?" the zabrak asked in a far too light tone. "Use the force, apprentice." Ezra opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, but Maul sensed his intent. The low, disappointed tone that dripped from his next words sent shivers down Ezra's spine._

 _"The force barrier we've been working on," the zabrak stated. "You will shield yourself by using a modified version of it. Use the force mid-fall to create a barrier between you and the ground. It will absorb the majority of the impact." Ezra blinked, had Maul repeat it again, and recited it in his mind. Use the force to create a barrier between himself and the ground. Mid-fall._

 _Easy._

 _Muttering a few choice words, Ezra approached the edge of the ledge once more. He looked down, only then realising the literal and figurative gravity of the situation. Sighing to himself, Ezra took the bit of anger at his newest task and tossed it into the furnace that was his inner darkness. He stood there for a few moments, clenched fists and gritted teeth showing his emotional state. Finally, after another minute and a self-motivating: 'Just kriffing do it.', Ezra threw himself off the ledge._

 _His composure immediately collapsed._

 _He was screaming, memories flashing before his eyes; meeting Kanan, his first birthday present from Sabine, Malachor. The last time he saw his parents flashed in his mind, unbidden, and he felt emotion well up inside him. Tears began to appear at the edges of his eyes, not just because of the memory, but also the ever-increasing speed of his descent. Wind was howling in his ears, and the world around him blurred into a mass of red. Ezra was flailing, attempting to grab onto a rock to stop himself, but finding that he'd drifted too far forward, and had nothing to grasp._

 _Tears were now pouring out of his eyes and running down his face, and he could just barely hear his own screams. Another memory flashed before his eyes; he recalled the pure, consuming pain after he destroyed the sith holocron. He remembered the cold that surrounded him after the pain subsided, and how his throat begun to contact. The fear, the shock._

 _Ezra's mind was panicking, searching the very deepest of his experiences now, dredging up the pain and loneliness of his first night alone and first week without food. He'd adapted to that suffering; he had become numb to it, as well as his qualms about theft. He'd survived Lothal_ by _pushing his own boundaries, by accepting the situation he was in and not giving up. By pushing the darkness away and doing_ something _. He wasn't doing anything to help himself survive his fall, he realized._

 _Nothing._

 _Was this how he was going to die?_

 _By being unable to overcome his fear? His emotions?_

 _Ezra's screams stopped as he shut his mouth. For a moment, the teen heard the wind howling in his ears. He was surprised they hadn't popped yet. The ground was far closer than Ezra thought it should have been. Shutting his eyes, the teen resisted the urge to wipe th of the tears they still contained. Ezra remembered what Maul had said to him:_

 _"Use the force mid-fall to create a barrier between you and the ground. It will absorb the majority of the impact." Ezra recited the zabrak's instructions once more after that, hearing Maul's low, disappointed tone in his mind._

 _Ezra hugged himself, gritting his teeth as he took the force barrier he used to block telekinetic attacks and morphed it. Soon he had cocooned himself in a blue bubble that extended half a foot out from his body. The bubble itself contrasted starkly with Dathomir's blood-red sky, and Maul smiled with satisfaction when he saw it. Ezra fell silent as he steeped himself in the force, gorged himself on it. He let his exasperation with what he was doing lead to anger, which he fed to himself, further continuing the cycle. He pulled upon every negative memory he could recall, allowing his frustration at the universe for giving him those experiences to make the flame he had awakened to become an inferno that his body contained._

 _Ezra was jerked back into reality when he heard a loud thump and the sound of sharp sound of snapping bone. The teen blinked, turning over to see Maul crouched beside him. He felt exhaustion flood him, as the adrenaline faded and his effort became clear to him. Ezra sucked in a breath and coughed, feeling pressure against his left lung. He had broken a rib, he realized. Maul, in a rare act of kindness, extended his hand to Ezra, and the teen attempted to lift his right arm, only to groan as pain shot through his shoulder. the zabrak, realizing that Ezra had likely dislocated his arm, grabbed the limb firmly, making Ezra jump. He felt a searing, sharp pain in his left side and moaned._

 _The zabrak spent the next thirty seconds hearing Ezra's sounds of pain before he was rewarded with a pop! and Ezra's head fell back as he sighed, and then jumped again, which led to another moan. Maul then frowned, put a hand underneath Ezra's back, hooked his other arm beneath the teen's knees, and lifted him up. Ezra leaned back, finding that breathing incredibly shallowly was the only way he could minimize the pain. But that wasn't it: with his adrenaline having faded, Ezra felt a very strong, and unfamiliar urge to vomit. The teen lay silent for a few more moments, attempting to regulate his breathing whilst also suppressing his need to throw up. This conflict, however, lasted only a minute or so before Ezra gave in. he was able to, though, direct his throw up to the ground away from Maul - and himself - which made the zabrak smile a bit in amusement._

 _After Ezra was done, he looked up at Maul, a yellow-brown ring around his lips, which were slightly swollen. Maul met the teen's battered gaze for a moment._

 _"That is enough for today, apprentice."_

* * *

Ezra blinked, groaning softly as he felt consciousness returning to him. He rubbed his bleary eyes and blinked a few times, stretching out with the force.

Moreena was below him, fast asleep. Hera was in the same room as Kanan, the twi'lek's signature right next to the Jedi's. Ezra felt a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, one of satisfaction at his suspicions of the pair's coupling being confirmed. He pushed it down though, frowning as he sensed Zeb still in his bed, but Sabine up and in the common room of the _Ghost_. Frown turning into a full scowl, Ezra slid soundlessly off his bunk, using the force to collect his cloak and lightsaber.

He slid the cloak over his shoulders, but kept the hood lowered, despite what his inner antisocial wanted. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and squared his shoulders, approaching the common room and steeling himself. His boots smacked against the floor once. Twice. Thrice. Ezra found the silence unnerving.

On Dathomir, despite the planet's appearance, there was a vibrant ecosystem of fauna and flora, and there had always been something buzzing or clicking. While it was unnerving at first, Ezra soon reaised the cause for said sounds were no more dangerous to him than the dirt of Tarkin town. It soon became simple background noise, helping ground him in the present. In the _Ghost_ , though, there was nothing like that, and as such some part of Ezra half-expect something to jump out at him from around each corner.

But nothing did, and Ezra found his walk to the common room to be uneventful. He stopped for a moment to steel himself before the last corner to the common room. His scowl was replaced with a neutral expression that showed as little as Ezra could manage, and he turned the corner.

The sound of the common room door opening drew Sabine's attention; her eyes found Ezra, face pale and angular, and wandered to the scar that ran from his right eye to his jaw, taking on a slightly melancholic look. The mandalorian wondered if it still hurt, or if Ezra was at all perturbed by it. But, Sabine concluded as she finished pouring her cup of caf and Ezra stepped past the threshold, his face wouldn't tell her anything. It was completely flat: unreadable. This, of course, simultaneously caught the attention and annoyed Sabine; to her, it seemed she'd be stuck with the same stoic, emotionless person Kanan had been since Ezra's disappearance.

Taking a sip of her cup, and jumping slightly at the heat of the caf inside, Saine leaned back against the countertop the pot of caf rested on.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked, attempting to appear nonchalant. Then, a moment later, she mentally scolded herself as the memories of what had happened the last time Ezra slept on the _Ghost_ came back to her.

"Decent," came Ezra dully. Sabine took another sip of her caf, raising a brow. 'Decent.' in such a neutral, noncommittal tone could easily mean Ezra was hiding something. Perhaps he'd been attacked in his sleep again, or had suffered a nightmare that he wasn't sharing... or that he was indeed telling the truth and she was just paranoid. The mandalorian internally mused for a moment as to what drew Ezra, Kanan and Ahsoka to Malachor in the first place; after Ezra had disappeared, Kanan had explained at length what had happened down there, but gave the caveat that they weren't to mention it around Ezra if he ever resurfaced. Now he had, and now Sabine had to hold in her emotions about the whole affair as the greatest victim of the whole mission stood before her. That wasn't to mention what she thought of how he looked now.

"That's good," Sabine said, then cringed inside at the sheer cheesiness of the line. She set her caf down behind her.

"Did you dream about anything?" she asked. At that, Sabien swore that for a second Ezra's eyes showed reverie. But it was so fleeting she questioned if her eyes weren't simply playing trick on her as she tried to comprehend the person she was talking to.

"Yes," said Ezra carefully. "I dreamed I jumped off a mountain." Sabine blinked, shaking her head in confoundment.

" _What_?" she spluttered, staring at Ezra as if he'd turned gamorrean and turned green. Ezra's lips nearly curved into an amused smile, but at the last second reverted back to the flat line they'd been before.

"Did you survive?" asked Sabine, eyeing Ezra with incredulity and bemusement. Ezra shrugged.

"Don't know. The dream ended when I hit the ground." replied Ezra casually, mirroring and Sabine and leaning against the wall opposite her. The mandalorian processed his reply, her thoughts cut through by Ezra speaking again.

"What about you?" asked the teen, raising a brow. He meant for it to be slightly jesting, and hoped it appeared so. Sabine, after frowning for a moment as she struggled to recall the blurry details of her own dream, shook her head, dyed hair swaying slightly as she did so.

"I don't remember. I think it might've been about Lothal though," Sabine said, finding that the only thing she could recall with accuracy was an image of Lothal. Ezra's brow lowered, and he shrugged, relieving the tension that had developed between them.

"Got anymore in there?" he asked, pointing to the pot of caf. Sabine nodded, and Ezra walked over to the counter, grabbing the pot but summoning the cup he needed with the force. Sabine gave a small smirk.

"You trying to impress me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Ezra poured himself a cup of caf, shaking his head.

"Nope," he said, "Though I could ask if you're trying to do the same thing to Wedge." Ezra finished his sentence with a small, mirthful smirk as Sabine's face flushed.

"Shut up." she snapped. Ezra chuckled softly, glad his memory had served him well, then took a sip of his caf. He gave no visible reaction to the liquid other than a frown. He walked over and sat down on the crescent-shaped bench that the common room had. Sabine picked up her own cup of caf, sliding onto the bench across from Ezra.

"Up for a game?" asked the mandalorian, gesturing to the hologram table that separated them. Ezra was silent for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said, and Sabine shot a grin Ezra's way.

"What's with the hesitation? Are you scared I'll beat you?" she said with exaggerated smugness, to which Ezra had to resist the urge to snap an indignant comeback.

"Nope." he said again, and activated the machine with the force before Sabine could do so on her own. She scowled with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

"Show off," she muttered.

* * *

 **Well. Hello there. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because writing the banter between Ezra and Sabine was fun. Of course, it's all an act on Ezra's part, but that act was fun. And that's it. Any and all reviews/follows/favorites will be duly noted. - Raging Celiac**


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